


After Siberia

by TheSopherfly



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/pseuds/TheSopherfly
Summary: Tony can’t stop thinking about Siberia. Natasha knows exactly how to get him out of his head.





	After Siberia

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Tony Stark Bingo, square R3 - Fix It.  
> Fill for MCU Kink Bingo, square N1 - Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark.
> 
> Set just after Captain America: Civil War. (Rating will change once Chapter 2 is posted.) Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

 

“Tony.”

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin. Natasha had opened the door, closed it, and crossed the room without making a damn sound. That wasn’t anything new - Tony just wished he could stop being so surprised every time it happened.

It didn’t help that Tony hadn’t expected to see her… Ever again. _‘Boy. It must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? Sticks in the DNA.’_ He could still taste the words in his mouth, bitter and angry and stupid. Natasha hadn’t deserved that. She had signed the damn Accords. She was on Tony’s side - always had been.

Tony didn’t say anything, not until Natasha was standing in front of him, making herself impossible to ignore. It wasn’t anything she was _doing,_ either. Must’ve been her aura. She leaned one hip against the work table, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Tony sank further back into his chair. What was he supposed to say? _Steve and I had a fight._ Ha. No. That didn’t quite cover it. _I tried to make things better. Tried to play it right. And gee, it worked out great._ Tony might not have been injured physically, at least, no more than usual. Emotionally, though, he felt like he’d been shredded to ribbons, torn beyond repair, beyond recognition.

“Hey,” Tony said, his voice cracking. _Traitor,_ he thought. “I, uh. I figured you weren’t coming back.”

Natasha shook her head. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

Tony didn’t want to think about how thankful he was for that. He rubbed a hand over his beard, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He’d been awake for - for too long. He hadn’t slept since Siberia, and that had been - what? Nine hours ago? Ten? And before that he hadn’t slept, either. How long had he been awake? He did the math in his head. _Crap._ Bordering on sixty hours. That didn’t quite top his record, but it wasn’t great. Of course, it wasn’t really his fault, either. He couldn’t sleep, not with everything on hyperdrive in his head. Not with the memory of his mother’s bloody face still swimming in his mind’s eye.

_Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?_

He wasn’t sure how long he checked out, but Natasha stepped toward him and broke his trance. She threaded one hand into his hair, gently tilting his head up until he was forced to meet her eyes. “Want to tell me what’s going on up there?” she asked.

No, Tony decided. He didn’t want to talk. He was bad at feelings; found them impossible to articulate. Plus, talking about them usually made them worse. “Too much,” he said finally.

Natasha’s frown deepened. She knew just how much it took to make it _too much,_ and Tony knew she didn’t like it. Her thumb traced slow circles along Tony’s hairline, and when she drew him forward, he didn’t argue. He buried his face in her sweater, his mouth just above her navel. His hands slid to her waist, fingers curling into the snug fabric and holding tight, and for the space of a few seconds, the rest of the world disappeared. The feel of her, the smell of her, her closeness - it all overwhelmed his senses just enough to give him the breath of relief he needed. Soft reset. That was what Natasha called it. And damn if it didn’t work every time.

“There you go,” Natasha said, probably because she’d felt him relax into her, every muscle releasing at once. Both of her hands were in his hair now, drawing nonsense patterns on his scalp; he hummed and nuzzled closer, breathing deep. “Tony. Why didn’t you call me?”

Tony pulled back far enough to look up at her. “I don’t know. I just…” He shrugged his good shoulder helplessly. “Couldn’t pick up the phone.”

God, the way she was looking at him… She didn’t show that much emotion for anyone else but Clint, and they’d known each other for a subjective lifetime. She knelt down between his knees, her expression inquisitive and serious. “Are you okay?”

“Always.” Tony said it out of force of habit, and he could tell she didn’t believe it for a second. “Fine. Not okay, but… Better. Better now.”

Natasha smiled, and Tony’s eyes got caught on the corners of her lips, then the dimple on her right side. She was - well. If not perfect, then damn close. He wondered if she knew she was the only thing holding all the loose pieces of him together. He was a basket case - an idiot with an ego on his best days, a piping hot mess on his worst. She kept him steady. Sane. She somehow knew exactly what he needed, usually before he did. Tony kept wondering how long it would take for him to mess it up.

“You’re thinking way too hard,” Natasha said, somehow managing to taunt him and still look empathetic. Then, more carefully, “Do you want me to stop you?”

Oh, god. Tony’s body responded to that before he could verbalize his answer, a resounding _yes_ surging through his veins. “I - yes. Please.”

Natasha shifted closer, leaning in. She waited, their lips just a breath apart, and Tony thought that must’ve been a trick, because when she finally kissed him, it felt like anguish and relief all at once, a perfect storm that made him burn. It always started with a kiss. A kiss to test the water, to see what Tony wanted without having to ask out loud. As a rule, Tony loved to talk - but when things got bad, when his head and heart were tied in impossible knots, it was easier not to have to say anything at all.

That first soft kiss turned into a second, and a third. Tony let her lead; he didn’t want control, and Natasha was more than willing to take it. Her tongue traced his lips, request rather than demand, and Tony opened to her, trying to disappear into that warm, slick slide. He moaned, wordlessly asking for more, and she gave it to him, rising just enough to straddle his lap, pressing as close to him as she could. She was grounding and warm, and Tony couldn’t help arching his hips up, making his nerves sing and his mind slow to a near stop.

“Ah,” Tony said when Natasha pulled away. Not for air - her technique was too good for that - but to check in on _him._ He headed her off before she could ask. “Good,” he said hoarsely. “Good. Please, don’t stop.”

One corner of her mouth quirked up, and she nodded, her eyes dark. “Okay. I won’t.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Stop by my [tumblr](https://sopherfly.tumblr.com/) to see what else I'm working on, or just to say hi! :)


End file.
